Stony Tor
by Black Wolf's Shadow
Summary: Stef wants to know why Vanyel hates to hear the song that gave him his name 'Demonsbane'; the bard didn't realize there was so much more to it than what the song told him. Stef/Van obviously. Inspired by the song of the same name written by the author.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: New story! My first and pretty much only fanfic in Ms. Lackey's world. Inspired by "Stony Tor" from _Songs from Vanyel's Time_ the CD. Not brilliant music but the imagery was great. Please enjoy.

~Shadow

* * *

Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron stretched out his sore shoulders and back as he walked down the hallway, wincing as something cracked.

"Stef's going to start charging me; the numbers of times I've asked him for a massage this week…" he trailed off to himself before shaking his head. Stef was so patient with him, he wondered how he deserved it; the younger man was at least as tired as Van himself, running near constant attendance on Randale while keeping the meetings organized, making sure everyone ate, and gods knew what else, yet he still had the presence of mind to make sure that Van was keeping up and not overworking himself into a coma again.

People always thought he was the amazing one but the entire court would probably fall apart without Stef.

Reaching his door, sighing at the pervasive quiet around him that never really left, Van knocked lightly even though it was his room before entering; he'd forgotten once, forgotten that Stef would be waiting for him, and had just walked in, scaring the redhead so badly he'd spilled (another) glass of wine all over the floor and nearly given him a heart attack, or so he'd said.

"Stef?" Van asked, peering into the dimly lit room; the fireplace was the only source of light and it was just barely still burning. Quiet music originating from the direction of the bed continued for a second longer before tripping to a halt, but not before Van recognized the tune.

"Why are you playing that piece of dribble?" Van asked good-naturedly, kicking off his boots and crawling onto the bed next to the Bard, who was holding his lute and smiling quietly. Van debated the possibility of sitting as Stef was, propped against the wall, and decided against it when his back complained at just the thought; instead, he laid his head down in Stef's lap, sighing contentedly.

Stef absently starting running his hand soothingly through Van's white-streaked black hair.

"It has a good tune, and the fingerings are intricate enough to keep me occupied. That's not the first time you've belittled that song, _ashke_; why do you dislike it so much?" Stef asked curiously. Van sighed.

"I understand artistic license, Stef, trust me; I used to think about trying to write songs myself before life got… like this," he said evasively, not for the first time trying to hide how much he was struggling to keep up with all his duties.

It was a pointless exercise; Stef knew he was lying, felt it through the bond that tied them irrevocably together, but he never called Van on it. What he did do was squeeze Van's hand gently, letting the mage know he was there for him, always. Van pressed back, appreciative of the support. "But that song is so far from the truth, it's laughable."

"So you didn't face down Lord Nedren, his mage, and forty soldiers on the top of Stony Tor while protecting a nameless bunch of refugees, from Hardorn no less? And you didn't turn those demons back on the Karsites despite the fact that you should feasibly have had no command over them? And you didn't fry that aforementioned mage to a cinder and kill Lord Nedren using those same demons, all while wounded and about to bleed to death?"

Stef meant to be joking but there was an underlying edge of fear and indignation in his voice he couldn't quite hide.

Van sighed and rolled his head so he could meet Stef's eyes.

"All that's true, Stef, but it's all in the little details, you know that. It sounds so much more heroic than it actually was…" His eyes unfocused for a moment, reliving the day that had precipitated the song. Stef squeezed his hand again, breaking him out of it; Van smiled.

"And it wasn't forty men, there were only twenty; Nedren was an arrogant bastard, he would never have thought he needed more protection than that. Always so confident he could talk his way out of trouble, and it that didn't work, there was always the other way."

"Kill them, you mean?" Stef asked, a little disturbed.

Van nodded matter-of-factly; Stef shivered at this obvious display of cynicism. "Why are we talking about this? It's not the most pleasant of topics," Van said lightly, trying to change the subject. Stef looked troubled for a moment, debating something hard enough that Van could feel his indecision.

"Stef?"

"Would you… Would you tell me story, the real one behind that song?" he asked quietly, eyes on his hands in his lap. Van raised his eyebrows in surprise and maneuvered until he was under Stef's gaze again, those brilliant green eyes meeting his own silver ones reluctantly.

"Why do you want to know, _ashke_? I'll tell you but it's not a happy story. Why ask now?"

"I've seen the scars," Stef said, "touched them," running his hand down the largest one on Van's chest, "kissed them," he leaned forward and murmured against Van's lips. He smiled briefly, feeling Van's heartbeat speed up under his hand.

"I want to know you, lover; even now, I feel like there's still so much you haven't told me, don't want to share with me." And he couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice when he said those words that had been running around in his head for nearly a month. Van's eyes widened and he sat up.

"Stef, I…" he began, then stopped, obviously caught by surprise. He frowned, his entire face twisted in concern.

"It's okay, Van," Stef said hurriedly, obviously regretting he'd said anything. "Don't worry about it, I shouldn't have brought it up…"

Van turned away and Stef's heart dropped until he saw that Van was only making himself comfortable on the bed, bracing himself up on the ridiculously large pillows they both preferred.

"Come here," he ordered, opening his arms. Stef went willingly, curling up against Van's side, his head pillowed on his shoulder. Van closed his arms securely around the impossibly thinner man, holding him almost too tightly.

"You've been thinking about that for a while, haven't you?" the mage asked. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling that way?" Van's voice was concerned and confused all at once. Stef smiled wearily; Vanyel was smart, almost brilliant, the most powerful man in the nation, possibly the world, and yet he was so confused by emotions, both his own and by others. Stef just didn't get it.

"Have you taken a look at our lives lately? When would we have had time for a conversation like this?" the Bard replied with a measure of amusement.

"True," Van whispered, regretful. "Stef, I'm sorry I'm so busy all the time, you can't be happy with this…"

Stef tilted his head and pulled Van's face down to meet his, effectively cutting off his self-inflicted guilt trip. Van met his eyes almost timidly when Stef released him; the Bard gazed back steadily. "I knew what I was getting into when all this begin. Your duty comes above everything else, even me; somehow you Heralds all reached that same conclusion along the way, you're famous for it. I won't deny that I'm jealous sometimes, Van, but I never regret being with you."

"I don't deserve you," Van murmured back, smiling that smile that Stef loved to see, the one Stef couldn't help but return.

"On the contrary, Van, you deserve every bit of the good things that come to you," Stef replied, almost sleepily.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" Van asked gently. "The story can wait till later." Stef roused himself immediately, shaking his head.

"You keep changing the topic, it's hard to stay focused," he accused.

Van laughed quietly. "As you wish, then." He sobered and Stef could practically feel him gathering his thoughts into order. When he began, his voice was soft, low, and rhythmical, like the cadences of a storyteller. But Van was, technically, a Bard; he would know how to tell stories.

"'Fandes and I were returning from a border patrol. Six months out trying to prevent anyone getting killed in raids, inter-family fights, protecting people for the Pelagirs creatures… We were just worn out and ready for a break, overdue for one, actually. It's a common theme for me," he smiled wryly before continuing.

"We were headed back to Haven when I heard the Call, nothing specific, just a cry for help. I don't know if we even made a conscious decision to go, all the sudden 'Fandes was just running straight toward it, as fast as she's ever gone."

"When we reached that hill… It was like a nightmare." Van laughed humorlessly and Stef knew what he was thinking: just one more nightmare in a long list of them.

"Men and women, some carrying their children, some just fleeing, nearly all of them screaming… There wasn't even time for pleasantries like in the song, we didn't even exchange one word; the demons were already there, almost at their heels. We tried to get around them, to put ourselves between them and the demons, but we weren't quite fast enough. One of the women, she was straggling because she wouldn't let go of her belongings…"

Van shook his head, eyes far away and reliving the horror of that day. "The demon got to her before we could; I got it off as soon as I was close enough, but she was already gone."

Stef winced again at the distance in Vanyel's voice. How much did you have to see before death lost its surprise? That's what he heard in Vanyel's voice right then and it scared him a little.

"Van, wait, sorry. It's just… you sound so distant, like this is just another history lesson," Stef said. "How are you so… objective about this?" And in that question, Van heard what he was supposed to: "How can you be so calm?"

"It was a long time ago, love. I've seen more of the world's horrors since then, it just became one among many." Van's voice sound old and tired.

"I know what you're thinking. I don't mean to sound cold about this; someone died, I know that, I should be horrified. But I've seen so much, done too much… If I thought about all of them, about their families, the lives they might have had, what they might have felt as they died, I'd go insane. I can't afford that. Valdemar can't afford that. This is just my way of coping. I'm sorry it scares you; it's not something I ever wanted you to have to think about. But you know I'd never hurt you, right?" He asked that last almost desperately, needing to be reassured; Stef gave that to him willingly.

"I know that, lover, don't trouble yourself with such a thought." Stef smiled up at him encouragingly. "You are a good man, _ashke_. I know you, and I know you'd never kill if there was another choice; I'm not sure I'd be here if you were any different, lifebond or no."

"There are times when I feel like that's all I am, just a weapon, a killing machine; I've taken so many lives, destroyed so many more…" Van's soft anguished whisper reached Stef's ears and the young Bard sat up, feeling his heart hurt in response to Van's pain and realizing that it went deeper than he'd thought.

It was his turn to gather the older man into his arms, holding him securely as Van clung to him, on the verge of crying; it was just a marker of how much this hurt him. Van almost never cried, _a leftover from when they were younger and he had those ice-dreams…_

"All right, lover, it's all right," Stef whispered, brushing off the stray thought carelessly in favor of comforting the mage in front of him. He knew better than to bring stuff like this up, gods damn it all! Curse his stubborn curiosity anyway, he thought. What was that saying, curiosity killed the cat, wasn't it? Only, in this case, Van was the cat and being punished for Stef's indiscretions.

"It's all right, Van. I love you, you know that, right? I'll always love you, just like I told you before. I think that's enough talking for one night; I'm sorry I brought this up," Stef apologized, pressing his lips to the top of Vanyel's head.

"Let's go to bed, hmm? I'm sure I can think of a way to chase away any more bad dreams you might have," the Bard said seductively, trying to distract the distraught mage. But Van pulled away, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

"No, it's all right, Stef, you wanted to hear. I can finish," Van said but Stef shook his head firmly.

"Not a chance. You need sleep, I need sleep, we both need to relax… I know just how to go about doing that, too," Stef whispered, straddling Van's hips and murmuring against his lips.

"We'll finish the story later if and when you feel up to it." And Stef proceeded to distract Vanyel so thoroughly he didn't have a choice but to comply.


	2. Chapter 2

"We walled the demons together but it was, at best, a temporary measure. I wanted to try to reason with whoever had done this, I didn't want a fight; I didn't know then it was Nedren or I'd have never tried. That's another thing the song got wrong; Nedren knew who I was as soon as he saw me. 'Your fame precedes you, Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron. We have much in common.' I don't think I'll ever forget those words; why does everyone always have to say that?"

"It is said disturbingly frequently," Stef agreed quietly.

This time they were outside in the Field; Stef had waited until they had bright sunshine and gentle weather before tentatively bringing this topic back up again. To his surprise, Vanyel readily agreed. Stef hoped that the weather would help distance his lifebonded from the darkness of his memories, give him some measure of relief while he recounted this terrible story.

Van smiled, a quick flash of a grin, before continuing more soberly.

"After I replied with the trite yet requisite 'We're nothing alike,' I told him I knew what he was trying to do, which was a bit of a lie but given the state of those people, it wasn't hard to imagine it was something… unpleasant. The song made that up as well; I never knew the true reason Nedren wanted them so badly, but the intent was evil enough that, in the end, it didn't matter."

"'They're nothing but chattel, useless vermin to you; those animals do not belong to Valdemar. What is your claim to them?' Nedren asked me. I have to say, it was rather difficult to let that 'animals' comment pass; I would have protected them just for that reason even if I hadn't sensed something else was going on."

Stef snorted softly, fondness layering the sound. "Of course," was all he murmured quietly; to him, this was a given fact, nothing he hadn't expected from this particularly selfless Herald-Mage. Van smiled briefly again in acknowledgement of the feeling.

"'It is not only the helpless of Valdemar I am charged to protect,' I told him, as mildly as possible. I was still hoping that words could solve this mess instead of magic or swords; in that moment, I honestly doubted my strength and the possibility of defeating all those people. Remember, we had been fighting for those past months, nearly a skirmish a day; Yfandes and I were as tired as we had ever been. Until I had Karse to compare it to, that is," he added darkly and Stef covered a shiver. He sensed another long and dark story in those few words that he didn't think he would ever have the courage to ask about; Van brushed his hand absentmindedly, feeling his unease.

He brooded for a couple seconds, long enough that Stef was contemplating prompting him again when he suddenly shook himself and resumed speaking.

"After that, the song actually has it almost completely right. I don't remember Nedren's exact words but I do recall him offering me everything under the stars, including some things that weren't his to give, slaves, sacrifices even. As if I'd even _consider_ using Blood Magic," he said in apparent disgust.

"The language is a little flowery; I mean, really, can you imagine how long it would have taken to have that conversation if we'd actually spoken like that? But the idea is the same. He offered, I denied, he offered something else, I denied it again, it just kept going. I could see he just wasn't going to understand so I finally just told him that there was nothing he could give that would persuade me to step aside."

Van went pensive again staring at something on the other side of the stream bank that Stef couldn't see. This time, though, Stef could sense that they were getting into another bad area in the story, one Van didn't want to remember; he gave the mage all the time he needed to collect himself and his thoughts, using the time instead to bask in the rare sunlight. He listened to Van's steady breathing beside him, the sounds of the birds calling the in the trees around them, the wind brushing through the grass. It was so rare that they found days like this anymore…

"I think the greatest problem is that it all sounds so heroic, Stef," Vanyel said quietly, breaking out of his reverie. Stef suppressed a startle at the abruptness and turned an alert face to the mage, who wouldn't meet his gaze, long-fingered hands picking restlessly at the grass.

"That song paints me as the perfect Herald who gave the perfect, correct answers, who fought bravely and well and won because of it. But the truth is…" Vanyel hesitated, a frown marring his face and a look Stef wasn't accustomed to transforming his face into something younger, more unsure of himself.

"It was tempting, Stef," he whispered finally, pain on his face. "Some of the things he offered… I was hard pressed to resist. I was weak. I almost accepted one of them."

Stef had the distant feeling that he should be shocked but he wasn't; that was the whole point of the bad guys offering things, wasn't it? So that the good guys couldn't refuse? "What did he promise, Van?" Stef asked equally softly.

Vanyel's breath caught and he closed his eyes tightly, bowing his head. With that much of a reaction, Stef could pretty much guess what, or rather, _who_ it would concern.

"He promised to bring Tylendel back for you? Or give you someone who looked like him?" he hesitated to guess. Van twitched at hearing Tylendel's name and Stef positively ached with pain, not for himself but for the grief that was still so evident in the other man. He would give anything to fix the damage the once-Trainee had wrought on his beloved but knew there was nothing he could do except offer whatever solace it was Vanyel found in him and hope it was enough to make up some of the difference.

"The second one," Van finally admitted, sounding half-strangled. Stef sighed and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his White-clad shoulders and leaning forward until he could see Van's still downcast face.

"Vanyel, listen to me. I know you think it's wrong that you were tempted by what he was offering, but think for a moment. That's the whole point of what he was doing; he just needed something, anything to get you out of the way so he could do what he wanted with those poor people. If I had had to take your place and it was you he was offering me, I don't think I would have been able to deny him," Stef admitted somberly.

"You've always been better than me, lover, don't you see? It makes you a better person _because_ you were tempted and you rejected him anyway!"

"But I almost didn't," Van said hoarsely, practically choking on his emotions. Stef projected calm at him, gently smoothing his dark hair.

"'Almost' only counts in archery," Stef said quietly, allowing amusement to color his tone and using his free hand to get Van to look up again. Holding his silver gaze, he said, "You did nothing wrong, beloved. I know others would tell you the exact same, that you once again did so much better than anyone had a right to expect of you. And I, for one, am proud of you," Stef said, a faint flush coloring his pale cheeks.

Van sat for a moment, digesting that, and the smiled, hesitantly and only a mere uplifting of the corners of his mouth, but it was real and it was there.

_He could practically feel the raw wounds mending…_

"Much better," Stef approved, shaking off the weird echo that he'd felt this way before. He told himself it wasn't that unlikely; he'd spent a lot of time getting Van to talk to him and relieving him of burdens he may not have even realized he was carrying.

"Bards really do have a way with words," Van said, half wry and half amused, before reaching up and cupping the redhead's cheek; Stef leaned appreciatively into the touch before he caught the next look on the mage's face. His eyes narrowed in mock-warning.

"You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking," he warned, only half-teasing. Van raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? And what am I thinking, then?" he asked, a bigger smile pulling at his mouth.

"You're thinking that ridiculous notion that you don't deserve me again," Stef said confidently, propping his hands on his hips. Van looked surprised and Stef smirked. He opened his mouth but Stef beat him to it.

"How'd I know? You have that same expression every time you're thinking it, one part tender, three parts incredulous. It's not hard to recognize."

"Arrogant little scamp, aren't you?" Van laughed.

"It's not arrogance, it's confidence!" Stef corrected as he launched himself at the other man, tackling him down to the grass.

Van gave an _oomph_ of surprise as Stef's weight landed on him before he laughed again and submitted to the bard's obvious demand that they wrestle around in the sunlight, all dark tales forgotten for another day.


	3. Chapter 3

"After the bargaining failed, Nedren pretty much resigned us both to fighting, where by 'both' I mean his mage and me. I guess he was hoping the battle would wear me down enough for his soldiers to take me if it went ill for his side," Van shrugged before taking another sip of wine. "Who knows. But he stepped back, the mage stepped up, and I was given one last chance to walk away, which I obviously turned down."

Stef wondered if Van was aware just how _not_ obvious his last statement was; he knew plenty of people who would have run in such hopeless circumstances, and yet Van took it for granted that he'd stayed. Shaking his head slightly at Van's obliviousness, he asked, "Were you still doubting yourself?"

Van tapped his fingers absently on the low concrete wall they were currently leaning against as he thought; his back to the same wall, leaning on his elbows, Stef had to crane his neck a bit if he wanted to see Van's expression.

"You know the feeling you get just before you start performing? How you can be as tight as a harpstring right up until you're stepping on the stage and then suddenly the anxiety is just gone and your mind's quiet again? It was like that. There was no room for doubts anymore, no time for second thoughts. There was only Yfandes and I, the other mage, and the space between us."

"Absolute concentration," Stef nodded, for he did indeed know the feeling.

"Exactly. If Nedren had thought to shoot me full of arrows right then, I might not have noticed. 'Course, that's what 'Fandes is for, so I probably still wouldn't have gotten hurt but the point's the same."

_:I am not some glorified watchdog!:_ Yfandes interjected indignantly and Van laughed aloud.

Stef turned a curious eye on him and Van related what she'd said; he merely smiled before turning to stare out in his direction again when he'd heard.

_:I know, dearheart, I was just teasing:_ Van returned to her, appeasing her somewhat.

_:So long as we're clear:_ she said fondly before returning her attention to the conversation she'd been having with the other Companions until it was interrupted by Vanyel's comment.

"So did he strike first or did the song get that wrong, too?" Stef asked. Van snorted.

"It wasn't anything so clear cut as that; we both lashed out at the same time, within seconds of each other. It went on for a while but neither of us really got anywhere until he called those bloody demons," Van growled. Stef's mouth twitched at Van's apparent indignation.

"I'm guessing the song was wrong about the wounds then?" Stef said light-heartedly, not believing just how wrong the song was. No wonder the mage didn't like it, and not just for the memories!

But Van turned to the bard at his words, smiling gently.

"No, Stef, that part was real." He loosened the ties on his tunic and shrugged it over his shoulders until he held it with only his arms still in it. He turned his back to Stef, sweeping his hair out of the way and craning his head to see his own back.

"Those long lines in the middle? Claws. Snuck up on us before we realized it; probably would've killed me if 'Fandes hadn't bucked it off in the same moment." Stef paled at the thought of the damage; he'd seen the scars before, of course, but not till now had he known how they'd come to be there.

Van turned again, tilting his head to the left and sliding the shirt down a bit more until it exposed his upper arm. The two holes in the thick muscle of his neck above his collarbone glistened in the lantern-light, glossy and perfectly circular; Stef knew there were two more just like it in the back, exactly as if something had punched those holes all the way through. More long scars decorated the front of Van's arm on that same side.

"This one was my fault. I was so busy with the mage I didn't see it coming and 'Fandes already had her hooves, and teeth, full, literally. She saved me again, shying just far enough that it missed my throat and got muscle instead. I had to blast it off; ended up scorching my own arm before it finally fell away."

Compelled, Stef stepped forward, eyes locked on the horrible injuries. He traced them as he thought of how close, so entirely too close, those demons had come to killing him. Twice.

Van's skin was reassuringly warm under his hands, the scars a now-familiar texture; how those injuries must have hurt! The mage held completely still while the bard did his exploration, barely breathing as Stef's hands ghosted over his skin.

"Stef?" he asked quietly when the bard's hands ceased moving and stayed hovering over the side of his neck and his arm.

"So close, Van, so close," he whispered, eyes wide and fixed unwaveringly on the marks. Van gently reached up and cupped Stef's cheek, turning his face away from the scars and toward his own face.

"I'm all right, Stef. I'm still here," he said quietly but firmly enough to snap the bard from his frozen horror. He smiled slightly. "It's okay."

The force with which Stef slammed into him seemed impossible for the amount of space he'd had to generate it. Van, though, was ready for it and although his tunic got in the way somewhat, he wrapped reassuring arms around his lifebonded, holding him close.

"It's all right, Stefen-love, all this is in the past now," Van comforted him.

Face buried in Vanyel's chest, Stef shook his own head. "The risk is always there, Van, don't you see? Your next battle, your next mission from Randale… I can't bear the thought that I might lose you."

Regret swept through Vanyel; oh, what he'd give to be able to say Stef wouldn't have to worry about such things. But he could no more deny his gifts and his country's need for him than he could deny the coming of the tides; it was a thing of impossibility.

"Oh, Stef, I'm so sorry…" he murmured into the bard's soft hair, knowing there was no satisfactory answer he could give. He felt warm tears splash against his skin and knew that Stef had been longing for him to give him some sort of comfort, something to allay the fear, but there was nothing he could say that wouldn't be a lie; Stef knew the risks as well or even better than he did.

Cradling Stef's face between his palms, Van turned his face up to meet his gaze. "I know that it isn't much, love, but I promise you that I have absolutely no intentions of dying anytime soon. Not with you here waiting," Vanyel told him, smiling a sweet, small smile. Stef gave his own shaky copy in return and rubbed fitfully at his eyes.

"Great, me crying again," he said self-deprecatingly. Van smiled wider and gently brushed his hands away before drying the tears himself.

"It was my turn last time," he teased. "You were almost overdue."

Stef gave a huff of a laugh before resuming his previous post on the wall, trying to unobtrusively still his shaking and wipe off the tears that hadn't just yet stopped falling.

"What happened next?" he asked, and was proud of himself when his voice held steady. Van allowed him to change the topic and resumed his previous spot on the wall after pulling his tunic back on, studiously not looking at the bard as he rubbed at his eyes again.

"Well, 'Fandes and I were both hurt and running out of time. Demons are things not of this world; they don't get tired like we do, they don't need to rest, and they're very hard to kill. I had almost resigned myself to dying," he said hesitantly, hoping he wasn't about to upset Stefen further; the bard shrugged uncomfortably but said nothing.

Van went on, "Both of us were really out of ideas when I distantly heard the mage laughing; gods, it sounds so stupid that I should have noticed something like that in the middle of what I was doing but the sound was so annoying! He had the most awful nasally voice, very unfortunate really," Van said, rolling his eyes at the memory. Stef gave a startled chuckle and Van turned to smile at him before sobering.

"We were lucky, Stef. The demons all pulled back at the same moment, presumably to think how to attack next, but it gave me enough time to think, and then to act. You see, no one had ever tried to wrest control of something that had been summoned from another plane before; it was supposed to be impossible. I won't explain all the intricacies of magic and why it shouldn't have been possible but suffice to say that when the mage died, the ending of his magic should have just returned the demons to their home. But it didn't work that way. After I-" and here Van hesitated again, looking at Stefen uncertainly. The words he'd been about to say hovered in the air between them, almost as loud as if they'd been said.

Stef finally voiced the rest of the sentence for him, trying to keep his voice steady. "After you killed him?" he asked, and Van nodded slowly, eyes locked on the bard's face; Stef knew what he was searching for.

"It's all right, Van," Stef said with a half-smile. "You're not going to scare me away with the truth; I already told you, I know you wouldn't kill unless you had no other choice." Van sighed, looking relieved. "Go on."

"When he was gone, the demons should have vanished; they didn't. Something he'd done in the spell must have gone wrong, I don't know what, but suddenly I had seven wild demons on my hands. They would have gone on to kill whatever they could reach indiscriminately; that's all they know how to do. So I reached out and merely bound them to me, replacing the other mage as their master," Van said, the look on his face betraying how much that sentence didn't explain. He shook his head, looking frustrated.

"I still can't explain how I did it; I was just acting then, not even thinking. Even Savil doesn't understand it. Moondance or Starwind probably would but they're too far away to talk to…" Van trailed off, getting lost in contemplation.

"Those two, they're your Tayledras teachers?" Stef questioned, vaguely recalling the names from somewhere. Van must have mentioned them some other time. Van nodded.

"They understand so much more about magic than we do; of course, they spend much more time using it than we do, it's part of who they are." Van tugged on a lock of hair that had been burned pure silver by the forces he controlled. "Most of them have only silver hair by the time they're twenty, that's how much time they spend around magic." Stefen whistled lowly in appreciation.

"Impressive," he replied.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Van agreed wryly, plainly thinking of something in particular. At Stef's curious gaze, he said, "Another story for another time. Where were we?" he asked, forgetting where he'd left off.

"You'd just bound the demons to you," Stef prompted.

"Right. Well, I had control of them, just not completely; if they'd really fought me, I probably couldn't have held them, but they just stood there, waiting for instruction. Lucky again," Van said, half to himself.

"I turned back to Nedren and his men, still standing there although a lot fewer of them were still on their horses. Lightning does tend to scare off the animals in the area." Stef would have laughed at the feeble joke if he didn't know how much Van was hurting to talk about killing someone like that.

"'Your reputation does not do you justice,' Nedren said, and I was impressed by how calm he sounded, I remember that; there aren't many people who come so close to magic and talk about it that nonchalantly. Still, despite his words, he was scared. I gave them, all of them, one last chance to walk away, to save themselves, but only one man took it."

At Stef's incredulous look, Van sighed tiredly. "I know they were evil, Stef, but I couldn't face killing again, not then. Not after those past months. You don't know how it weighs on you, the guilt of their souls," Van said softly, hands clenched into fists on the railing.

"I'd already done too much and in the dark hours of the night, telling yourself that it was necessary, that they were evil is only so much comfort."

Stef felt guilty for allowing his surprise to overcome him. Of course that made sense; he was becoming as jaded as Van and forgetting that killing people, even evil people, leaves a mark that can't be erased. He reached out silently, covering one of Van's hands with his own; it relaxed under his touch until the bard could wind his fingers around his hand and hold on, squeezing comfortingly.

"That song makes it sound like a happy ending; the bad guys got what they deserved, the good guy wins and all that. They forgot to say how high the price is for the guy who had to kill twenty people up there on that ridge. That, I think, is why I hate that song most of all; it makes the whole thing out to be some sort of triumph when really it was just another tragedy."

Van sighed again and shook his head, his hair sliding forward over his shoulders until it hid his face from view as he looked down at the railing. Stef reached out with his free hand and tucked the strands behind his ear, revealing his face again. The mage's silver eyes were sad and tired; he looked older, much older than he should have, and for once it had nothing to do with his hair.

"How many people did you save, Van?" he asked quietly. The herald looked over at him in halfhearted curiosity, not understanding.

"Those farmers, the refugees. How many of them did you save that day?"

"I don't know, Stef, why does it matter?" Van said restlessly.

"It matters because you saved a lot of people from what could have been a horrible fate, Vanyel!" Stef protested. When Van shook his head again, either in denial or in confusion, Stef pressed on.

"You didn't just kill those men because they were evil, love. You were protecting those people behind you; they'd have died without your help, you know that. It may not be much comfort, Van, but even I can tell you that you had no choice but to do what you did. Nedren would never have let those people go and you gave them every chance you could to get them to walk away. They chose not to. That's not your fault."

When Vanyel still didn't speak, Stef shrugged off the wall and went to him, wrapping his arms around the herald's waist from behind and laying the side of his face against Van's shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had to kill them, Van. I realize that I can't know what that feels like but if you're any testament to go by, it must be terrible. I'm sorry for the pain it causes you."

"But I, as one of the people who could have stood in those refugees' clothes, am thankful for what you did, not the killing part but the protecting of those less powerful than you are. Nobody realizes the burdens you all have to bear while trying to protect the rest of us; a good many people wouldn't _want_ to know, I think. But now I know at least a little bit and I promise you that I'll always be here for you, for whatever you need, comfort, a companion, someone just to talk to for a while, whatever," he emphasized.

Van gave a gasp that was a mating between a laugh and a sob and turned around so he could hug the younger man close to him.

"You're ridiculous, Stef, you know that?" For a moment, Stef was hurt; he'd been speaking from his heart and Vanyel was making fun of him. But then the mage continued and Stef understood the words. "How can you still say I deserve you? Anyone in their right mind would be running away from someone like me and yet you don't leave."

Stef snorted softly in amused exasperation, hiding his face in Vanyel's shoulder as he wound his arms more tightly around the other man.

"I must have done something really terrible in a past life to deserve someone as thick as you," he teased gently. "Insulted and doubted in the same sentence, what a day."

"That's not what I-" Van started, pulling back hurriedly in concern that Stef had misunderstood him.

With a gentle smile, Stef leaned up and forward, silencing Van's words with his mouth.

"I know, love, I was teasing. And isn't it enough that we love each other without all this who-deserves-who business?"

"Of course it's enough, Stef," Van whispered, hugging the bard close to him again. "It's always been so much more than enough." Stef smiled, barely hearing the nearly-silent, "Thank you," that followed.

"Always, beloved."

* * *

A/N: I really hope you liked this as much as I did writing it; I ended up shirking on schoolwork to finish it but I had to get it all down! Review/favorite if you have a second.

PS: Did you catch the Tylendel-soul-as-Stef references? There's three places, I think, where 'Lendel shows through Stef; see if you can find them!

~Shadow


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